Replica
by Loki40766
Summary: Oneshot. He loves me, but he doesn't. He loves her, but arn't I her? No, I'm not.


Title: Replica  
Author: Loki40766  
Pairings: InuyashaxKagome, InuyashaxKikyo  
Summary: He loves me, but he doesn't. He loves her, but arn't I her? No, I'm not.  
Point-of-View: Kagome  
Disclaimer: Inuyasha does not belong to me. I am just using the characters for my own twisted purposes. If this resembles anyones fic, then I am sorry. I did not copy. This was wholly my idea.

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He loves me, but he doesn't. He loves her, but arn't I her? No, I'm not. I'm Kagome and she's Kikyo. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be her, and the truth is I don't want to. I want him to love me for me, but he doesn't. I know he cares, that I'm his friend, and that he's attracted to me. Yet, sometimes when he looks at me, I know he doesn't see me, that he sees Kikyo.

I may look like her, I may be her reincarnation, but I'm not her. We both lived different lives, and had different experiences that shaped us into who we are. We may have the same soul, but we're not and we will never be the same person.

And it hurts. It hurts when he lays beside me and presses kisses into my skin. It hurts because it's not me that he's thinking of, that he's holding, that he loves. He never screams out my name when we lay together. He never screams anything, just moans and grunts. Sometimes he whispers, though, right as I cry out his name in a shattered voice. He whispers a name, and it's not mine.

_"Kikyo."_

_"Kikyo."_

_"Kikyo!"_

I hate her sometimes, with a black foulness that takes my breath away. Isn't that messed up? I hate myself, but then again I'm not her.

He doesn't know I hear him. I don't think he even knows that he says it. Sometimes I can't hold back the tears until I'm away from him, and he smells the salt of them. He's always so apologetic, asking if he hurt me. I always tell him the same thing...

_"I love you, Inuyasha."_

...And he always tells me the same thing.

_"I love you too."_

I know he never understands why that just makes me cry harder. He would have hurt me less if he didn't lie, if he just never answered or if he told me he didn't care about me that way. Hell, it would've hurt less if he told me hated me.

The worst thing is that he truly believes that, that he believes that he loves me, because in his eyes I'm not a replacement of Kikyo, not even second best. I'm just a replica, a replica of the woman he loves.

I know he goes to her sometimes, lays with her as he lays with me, and then comes back to me, and loves me, because in his eyes we're just the same person. His beautiful Kikyo, thats who we both are.

Miroku, Sango, and Shippo know. Miroku and Sango try to talk to him, but Inuyasha never understands. Shippo is the biggest help, though. I know that he truly sees me, that I'm not just a replacement for his mother, that I could never replace his mother, but I can help heal the open wound that she and his father left in his heart. _'I'_, me not Kikyo, not his mother, can soothe the bloody, broken, torn patches.

I never feel as happy as when I hold him in my arms, and he turns large, soulful eyes at me and says, "I love you, Kagome."

The best thing is that I know he means it. In those moments I know that I'll do anything, absolutely anything for him. I will protect him with all that I am. I will give up my soul for him, and all he has to do is ask.

Sometimes I hate Inuyasha as much as I love him, and I want to hit him. Hit him until blood runs down his perfect face, but I'm not strong enough. I know that, and thankfully those feelings are always fleeting. Every now and then I wonder if his precious perfect Kikyo ever had such thoughts, and I know that she did or does, because afterall, she wants to send him to hell or rather go to hell with him.

Kikyo looks at me sometimes when we fight her, and I know that she knows, knows that our Inuyasha doesn't see me, and never will. She knows that he will always see her. She's not happy about it and I know that she feels sorry for me, that she pities me. I hate her for that, because she knows that his love is secure, and so she can afford to pity me, her rival.

But then I was never her rival, because there was never any contest. He never saw me, never will see me, and I hate him for that. I hate him, because I'm just a replica, and never existed, not in his eyes.

Oh, why can't he see me?

Why can't he see me?

Me?

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This was a strange little idea that just poped into my head. I hope you liked it. Now you see that little button down there at the end of the page. Click it and go to review, and tell me what you think. Flames will be used to cook hotdogs. 


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